Her Red String
by redbeanmochi
Summary: Arthur and Ariadne have met before. She just doesn't remember him. AxA


A/N: I don't own any of the characters from Inception, I just like to write things that are possibly not at all true about them!

* * *

Arthur isn't his real name. It's a cover.

His real name is Alexander Huntley. And there was a time when he wore t-shirts and jeans- once upon a time. It wasn't until he met Cobb that his style- and his name- changed, so it's no wonder Ariadne didn't recognize him when they met.

Three years ago, Arthur sat on the subway, snoozing. He was working at a newspaper firm in New York and he hated it. Arthur was supposed to be working on a story about some insignificant event that he could care less about. Which was why he was sleeping on the subway, wasting time.

He was dreaming about how nice it would be to shoot his boss, when he felt a hand tap his shoulder. His eyes snapped open and he turned furiously to come face to face with a petite wide eyed girl with curly brown hair. She couldn't have been a day over 19. But then again, he was barely 22.

"Oh! Sorry, did I wake you? Ugh, of course you woke him, Ariadne. Stupid…" the girl muttered, palming her face.

"Uhm… Did you need something?" Arthur asked cautiously.

"Right! Do you know which stop to get off if I want to get to Times Square?" He laughed.

"Well first of all, you're on the wrong line, going in the wrong direction," he laughed. The girl's entire face turned red.

"First time in New York?"

"I just moved here a few days ago. I was going to go walk around the city, but that failed, so I'm trying to get back home, but obviously that's failed as well," she explained, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"Well, it's only… 6. I can show you around town if you like," Arthur offered.

"Uhm… Well… Ok…" the girl stuttered, turning even redder.

"Alex," he said, offering his hand.

"Ariadne," she said as she shook his hand. Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"What? My parents were obsessed with Greek mythology," she laughed.

Arthur wasn't always so uptight. He was born into a broken family and he went to school only because he had nothing better to do. He didn't get good marks in school and he attended a community college, which he dropped out of after his first year.

Ariadne wasn't always a free spirit. She was born into a respectable family- one that wanted her to become a respectable lady and marry an equally respectable man with money. She doesn't understand how she held up with it for so long. When she turned 19, Ariadne ran away from home- she ran to New York.

When they met, he hadn't met Cobb yet. He still wore t-shirts and jeans and he still had his glasses (yes, Arthur wore glasses) perched on the nose of his bridge.

So it was no wonder Ariadne didn't recognize Arthur three years later.  
-

Arthur took her to museums (they snuck in), he took her to the best pizza place in New York (they dined and dashed) and afterward, even when they had nothing else left to do, Arthur still stayed with Ariadne. And Ariadne didn't want to leave Arthur.

"Why are you here?" he asked suddenly. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"I mean, you can't be older than 19. Should you be, like…?" he asked, his voice trailing off.

"Back home?" she scoffed.

"My parents wanted me to be some sort of debutante and not go to school and marry some rich guy and be a trophy wife. So, I ran away," Ariadne explained with disdain. Arthur opened his mouth to say something, a consolation, perhaps, but he ends up pressing his lips together.

"I'm sorry," he said finally, looking to Ariadne. She turned her head ever so slightly and looked up at him with raised eyebrows. She was so tiny, he realized. If he wanted- and he knew he wants to- he could have wrapped his arms around her and held her forever. But he didn't.

"Well, you don't have to be. I can't take care of myself."

"Which is why I'm showing you around," he quipped. Ariadne smiled, punching him lightly on the arm.

"Why are _you_ here?" Ariadne asked, wanting to know Arthur's story.

"What do you mean. I was born and raised here."

"No, I mean, what's your story? Why are you here with me right now?" He sighed.

"I was born and raised in downtown New York. My dad was never around, my mom never really seemed to care. I guess I'm just bored," Arthur explained.

"I think we should trade lives," Ariadne suggested as-a-matter-of-factly. Arthur smirked.

They walked around a while longer, doing nothing but telling each other everything. At 10, Ariadne finally decided it was time to leave. Truthfully, she didn't want to leave. There was a bond between them that drew them to each other in the first place. There were other people on the subway and she could have asked them for directions, but instead, Ariadne wanted to ask Arthur, even though he was sleeping.

"I should get going now, then…" Ariadne confessed with a sigh. Arthur's smiling face fell.

"Well, I'll see you around?" Ariadne asked with a smile.

"Don't get on the wrong subway line this time," Arthur smirked.

"Good night, Alex," she laughed, rolling her eyes as she gave him a peck on the cheek, her lips leaving his skin slowly, almost as if she wanted to kiss him forever (this was true, however). He smiled, waving dumbly after her. Somehow, good night sounded like good bye.

The next day, Arthur met Cobb and was forevermore part of his team. He was no longer Alex Huntley- he was Arthur Watson. And he never saw Ariadne ever again.

Arthur dreamt about Ariadne every night, for as long as he was still dreaming. He dreamt about her wavy brown hair and her creamy white skin and her salmon pink lips. And when he stopped dreaming, he started using the PASIV. For weeks on end, he dreamt of a line of red string. Each time, he would find himself in a different setting- sometimes a jungle, sometimes a desert, other times, a desert- with a long strand of red string in his hand. Every time, he would follow the red string, wandering around aimlessly until finally, finally the string led him to her. He would always laugh when he woke, realizing how clichéd it all was- Ariadne leading him to her with her precious red string. He was so sure he would see her again, but he never did.

He almost gave up hope, until the day she suddenly arrived at the warehouse with Cobb almost 4 years after their first encounter. It was almost as if they were connected by her red string- always being drawn back to each other.

Her presence seemed to calm everyone down and her smile- that perky, toothy grin she flashed whenever she was complimented- did wonders. Even Cobb couldn't help but smile at the adorable architect. Arthur was ecstatic to see her again, but it was the fact that she didn't remember who he was that was a slap in the face to him. Of course, he didn't expect her to remember him. After all, his wardrobe changed from jeans to suits and messy hair to neatly gelled and combed hair, and of course, he no longer wore his glasses (he had contacts now). Not to mention the bags under his eyes and his rugged look from endless nights of researching and lusting for Ariadne (he had become restless). She, on the other hand, hadn't changed at all- not her face, not her style of clothing, not the scarves she wore around her neck, and not even the length of her hair.

It tore him apart that she didn't recognize him, but it would have been unprofessional if he revealed himself and it would have been even worse if Eames found out. Arthur shuddered at the thought of Eames teasing him about his brief relationship with Ariadne. So, it was simply best, to stay close to her and repress his feelings, he decided.

Of course, as he would soon come to see, that was a stupid decision.

A year after the Fischer job, Ariadne had graduated from college and returned to work with Arthur and Eames- that red string of hers always drew her back. Of course, Eames and Arthur still never got along and just as obviously, Arthur's burning lust for Ariadne still continued. Eames could see it- he always knew Arthur was bad at hiding his feelings- but Ariadne was completely oblivious, making Arthur and Ariadne's awkward encounters with one another a good show for Eames. They were a good team, though. They rarely ever made mistakes and even when they did; it wasn't anything a quick drink afterward wouldn't fix up.

But some jobs would go horribly wrong and they would have to make a run for it. Eames would always stay behind for a few seconds to clear away their footprints while Arthur ushered Ariadne through alleys and corridors, hiding in the shadows. He would always stay close behind her, one hand on the small of her back pushing her along and the other on clutching his totem. Each time he touched Ariadne, adrenaline rushed through Arthur's veins- he never knew if it was reality or just another dream. He couldn't tell anymore with Ariadne.

Today, their job went disastrously. Projections held Ariadne down, forcing her to watch a group of even more violent and aggravated projections attack Arthur. Eames, forged as a tall blonde woman (as per usual), had to pull a struggling Ariadne, who didn't want to leave Arthur to die alone, away from the scene and shoot her himself because, quite honestly, Eames wasn't sure if he could take Ariadne's blubbering and sobbing any longer. When they woke, Arthur could see the fear in Ariadne's eyes. Something about the pain in his reassured Ariadne as Arthur pulled her from the lawn chair, throwing a glance at Eames, who was already packing the PASIV, before he ushered Ariadne out of the building.

"God, that was horrible. We didn't even finish the job," Ariadne whimpered.

"It's fine. We're not dead, the mark hasn't woken yet and it's fine," Arthur whispered as they ran through the dead streets of Oxford. They were panting and out of breath by the time they got back to the hotel Ariadne stayed at (they all stayed in separate hotels just to be safe). Being the gentleman that he was, Arthur escorted Ariadne to her room and made her promise to come find him if she needed something.

The moment Arthur got to his hotel room, he fell face forward onto the bed with a groan. Never in his life had a job gone so wrong. Thankfully, the mark didn't know anything and there was no chance he would ever know anything (because they were good), but Arthur wasn't too accustomed to complete utter failure. He got changed into a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants and removed his contacts, slipping his glasses over his eyes. Arthur sat on his bed slapping his forehead with a copy of the Bible and messing up his hair, when he heard a knock on his door. When he didn't answer immediately, the knocking turned into furious pounding. Arthur rushed to the door, flinging it open to find a wide eyed, rain soaked Ariadne standing before him.

"Oh, sorry I must have the wrong room," she muttered, her cheeks flushing a bright pink. Of course, dressed like this, she wouldn't recognize him.

"Uh, no. Ariadne. It's me." Ariadne's face contorted.

"_Arthur?_"

"Please. By all means, keep staring," he deadpanned. Ariadne's cheeks flashed red as her shoulders shrugged up in embarrassment.

"Why are you here? Nevermind, you're soaked. Get inside before you die of hypothermia," Arthur ordered, pushing her into the room. The room was dimly lit and lavishly furnished. It suited Arthur's style, Ariadne assumed.

"Here. Go take a hot shower and change into this. I'll dry your clothes," Arthur said, offering her one of his shirts. She stripped down in the bathroom and handed Arthur her clothes, keeping her underwear- there was nothing more embarrassing than having Arthur seeing her matching pink undergarments.

Outside, Arthur laid Ariadne's soaked clothes on the heater, listening to the sound of the shower water hitting, what he presumed was, her skin and the porcelain tub. After approximately 10 minutes and 18 seconds (Arthur was counting), he heard the water stop and Ariadne's size 6 feet pad across the tiled bathroom floor. After half an hour, when Ariadne still didn't emerge from the bathroom, Arthur began to worry.

"Ariadne?" he asked, knocking gently on the door. He could hear her crying.

"It's open," she choked between sobs. Arthur opened the door to see Ariadne, with still damp hair and bloodshot eyes, sitting on the toilet with an unreal amount of tears streaming down her pink cheeks.

"It was so bad, Arthur. I failed so horribly. I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Ariadne whispered, burying her face in her knees. Arthur draped his shirt over her body as he slipped one arm under her knees and another around her ribs, picking her up and carrying her over to the bed.

"Ariadne, it's going to be fine. The mark isn't going to know. Just sleep it off," Arthur advised, tucking the sobbing architect in. Within five minutes, Ariadne was asleep and Arthur sat on the floor, back leaning against the bed and waiting for a call from Eames that was supposed to have come hours ago.

The phone finally rang at approximately 4:17 AM- just as Arthur began to drift off. Angry and cursing under his breath, he picked up the phone.

"What the fuck Eames? You were supposed to have called 3 hours ago!" he scolds in a low whisper. Not low enough to keep Ariadne from waking up, however. He sees her eyes blink open lazily as she slowly rises from the bed.

"Well it's not my bloody fault. They almost found me! And they're in the process of tracking Ariadne right now!" Eames shouted from the other side.

"Fuck," Arthur muttered.

"Exactly. I don't think we have much to worry about though. The mark's not too bright, and her face is most likely fading from his memory, fast. There's no way he'll be able to find her," Eames reassured.

"Well it wouldn't matter anyways. Ariadne's not in her room," Arthur explained.

Silence.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Eames asked smugly. Arthur could hear his smirk.

"Nothing. Just get some rest Eames. We'll talk tomorrow- today. Go to sleep," Arthur snapped, ineffectively ending the conversation (he knew Eames would bother him about it tomorrow).

"Eames?" Ariadne asked innocently.

"Yeah. Apparently the mark's trying to track you," Arthur explained but immediately wished he didn't.

"_Oh_…" she choked out. He could see the tears beginning to form in her hazel eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Arthur. I messed up so bad. I'm sorry," Ariadne sobbed, covering her face with her hands.

"Hey, hey. Ariadne. It's fine. Everything's fine. He can't find you, you're safe," Arthur reassured, placing his hand on the small of her back.

"No, you don't understand. I just sat there and let you die."

"Ariadne… It wasn't real. None of that was real," Arthur whispered, wrapping his arms around her, feeling her body rise and fall rapidly with her cracked sobs and uneven breathing. She looked up at him, breathing heavily and for a moment, it seemed as if she would explode. But she didn't. Instead, she forcefully pressed her lips against his, so quickly he could barely protest (not that he would have). With hands almost completely hidden by the sleeves of the shirt she was wearing, Ariadne grabbed Arthur's shirt and pulled herself closer to him.

"Come to bed with me, Arthur," she whispered, clutching his tie.

"You know I can't do that." She stared longingly at him.

"Please," she begged, "I just need to know that you're safe." He sighed, taking Ariadne's face in his hands and kissed her forehead. He pulled open the covers, and motioned for her to get in.

"You know, you remind me of someone I met in New York, a long time ago…" she muttered.

He wanted to tell her everything. Tell her that he is Alex Huntley. He wanted to tell her that he's even wearing the same shirt he was wearing the day they met. But he didn't.

"It's just a coincidence. Go to sleep, Ariadne," Arthur said instead. Of course, he had qualms about not telling her. He wanted to, so badly. But he didn't. It didn't matter. None of it mattered.

Because the only thing that mattered at that moment was that her red string led him back.

* * *

A/N: there are 2 explanations for this title- the idea of the red string of fate and the story of Ariadne and Theseus. So, the story of the red string is that the Gods tie an invisible red string around the ankles (or pinkies in some variations of the legend) of a pair of soulmates, leaving them their whole lives to search for each other. And, as we all (or many of us) know, Theseus volunteered to enter the Minotaur's labyrinth. Ariadne, the daughter of King Minos, fell in love with Theseus and gave him a sword and a spool of red thread (string, wool, fleece, what have you) to lead him out of the labyrinth (so you see why Ariadne's name is what it is).

In this case, Ariadne and Arthur are soulmates, the red string binding them together, and Arthur is Theseus and Ariadne is well, Ariadne- her red thread leading Arthur out of the labyrinth of life, to her. So in both ways, the two of them are bound together by fate, destined to draw each other back to the other. With her red string.

I may or may not continue this story. Should I?


End file.
